


Warmth

by acchikocchi



Category: Nobuta wo Produce
Genre: Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-09
Updated: 2006-12-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 12:39:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1428889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acchikocchi/pseuds/acchikocchi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By the time Shuuji got home, he was cold, wet, tired, hungry, and to top it all off, he could feel a headache coming on. All in all, he wasn’t exactly in the mood to open the door and hear Akira singing along (or trying to) to some American Christmas song at the top of his lungs. (AO3 repost.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warmth

Things had started to go badly nearly the moment Shuuji got to work. One of the new girls had filled out an order form wrong and instead of five crates of coffee for the break room they’d received five crates of candy canes, of all things – which wasn’t his reponsibility since he worked in _sales_ , but it had been “But you’re so responsible, Kiritani-san,” and “We’ll get in trouble, Kiritani-san,” and “ _Please_ , Kiritani-san?” until in the end of course he’d been the one to hurry and straighten things out before the boss showed up. It was a good thing, too, because Chief Moriguchi arrived in a foul mood and proceeded to take it out on everyone within range. Shuuji pretended to be glued to his computer screen, but that didn’t keep him from getting called over and chewed out for ten solid minutes on the flaws of his last transaction, even thought the client had bought almost a million yen worth of equipment and said what a pleasure Shuuji was to work with.

He stayed late to finish some overdue paperwork, and when he finally left it was pouring rain and he realized he’d fogotten his umbrella. He pulled his jacket over his head and made a dash for the nearest subway entrance, but even so he was drenched within seconds. The train car was packed and he was pressed in on all sides; someone’s wet umbrella pressed against his leg, the dampness seeping through his trousers and forming droplets that rolled down his leg. He was almost grateful to get off and go back out in the rain, if only to escape the pervasive smell of damp wool, until he stepped out of the station and right into an ankle-deep puddle that soaked right through his brand new leather shoes to bare skin.

By the time Shuuji got home, he was cold, wet, tired, hungry, and to top it all off, he could feel a headache coming on. All in all, he wasn’t exactly in the mood to open the door and hear Akira singing along (or trying to) to some American Christmas song at the top of his lungs.

“La la la la la WHIIIITE CHRISTMAS... la la la la la la laaaaa...”

Shuuji set his briefcase down with a deep sigh and trudged into the kitchen. “Could you turn that down a little?” he asked plaintively.

“Shuuji!” Akira said gleefully. “Welcome back!” He was wearing a bright red and green apron and holding a wooden spoon; Shuuji decided not to ask about the pot bubbling on the stove.

“I’m home,” Shuuji said belatedly. “Shit,” he added, when he realized he was dripping all over the floor.

Akira looked at him closely. “Shuuji, you’re all wet!” he said, and burst into high-pitched laughter. Shuuji just rolled his eyes and said, “I’m going to go change.”

When he re-emerged, wearing clean, dry clothes and rubbing a towel over his hair, the CD player was off and Akira was in the living room, curled up on the couch and cradling a giant mug of something thick and chocolatey-looking to his chest.

“What’s that?” Shuuji asked suspiciously, draping the towel over the back of a chair

Akira beamed. “Hot chocolate! I made it myself! Try it,” he said, holding the mug out toward Shuuji.

Warily, Shuuji sat down and accepted the mug and took a tentative sip. He recoiled. “How can you drink that?” he demanded. “It’s sweeter than _real_ chocolate!”

“But it tastes like winter,” Akira said seriously, then started laughing again. Shuuji put the mug down and thought that the _last_ thing he needed was more sugar.

Lightning-fast, Akira stopped laughing and instead eyed Shuuji with a thoughtful expression that Shuuji knew all too well by now. “What?” he asked with a sense of foreboding.

“I wonder,” Akira said, leaning in until he was peering at Shuuji from all of two inches away.

Shuuji’s breath caught. “Wonder what?” he managed.

“Which tastes better,” Akira said, and leaned in just a little further until he was kissing Shuuji.

Akira’s lips were soft and warm and Shuuji let his eyes fall shut contentedly. He slid a hand up to press against the back of Akira’s neck; Akira smiled against Shuuji’s mouth and gently nudged Shuuji’s lips apart, thumb smoothing across the skin of Shuuji’s collarbone above the neckline of Shuuji’s shirt.

The hot chocolate tasted a lot better in Akira’s mouth, Shuuji thought hazily. Akira seemed to be intent on determining exactly how _Shuuji_ tasted, as he carefully licked at the inside of Shuuji’s mouth, making thoughtful little noises that Shuuji, god help him, actually thought sounded hot. Akira was pressing him against the back of the couch now and his hand skimmed up the back of Akira’s neck to slide through Akira’s hair, tugging him closer.

Just when Shuuji was starting to wonder if the couch would hold up to anything more strenuous, Akira broke away to press his nose against Shuuji’s neck. “Shuuji,” he heard Akira hum happily, “Shuuji, Shuuji, Shuuji.”

Shuuji couldn’t repress a little laugh, stroking his fingers through Akira’s hair. They sat like that for several minutes, Akira leaning on Shuuji’s shoulder and Shuuji resting his cheek against the top of Akira’s head. Shuuji breathed deeply and told himself he wasn’t inhaling the scent of Akira’s shampoo.

Eventually, Akira stirred, sitting up and crossing his legs so that he faced Shuuji. “Feel better?” he asked.

“Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, I guess,” Shuuji muttered, feeling his cheeks flush. He didn’t think it had been that obvious.

This, of course, made Akira laugh again. “Shuuji’s embarrassed!” he caroled, as Shuuji scowled and said “You’re really loud, you know that?”

“But that’s okay, because I like you anyway,” Akira continued as if he hadn’t heard him, and darted in to press another kiss squarely against Shuuji’s lips.

Before Shuuji could respond (thankfully, since he had no idea what to say), Akira straightened suddenly. “Hey, look!” he exclaimed, pointing past Shuuji’s head toward the window.

“Hm?” Shuuji twisted around.

Outside, the rain had turned to snow.


End file.
